Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

But she just stayed quiet, not elaborating any further.
“So was that red?” she asked, changing the subject.
Red?
Oh, right. The night of the motorcycle ride. She wanted to
know what red felt like.
I scoffed. “Maybe like orange.”
“Orange?” She looked appalled. “Can it at least be
purple?”
I laughed under my breath, walking over to her and taking
the wash cloth off of her. “Purple then.”
I helped her to her feet, so we could get her clean, and she
found her way under the water wetting her hair.
“When can I see red?” she asked.
And I planted my hand on the wall, holding her face with
the other one, as I stared down at her and saw all the shit that
was going to eventually hit the fucking fan.
When you find out who just fucked you, you’re gonna see
plenty of red then.